


Because There Are No Others

by Violet_Jones



Series: Backdrifting [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Barebacking, M/M, Smut, std testing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22215514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Jones/pseuds/Violet_Jones
Summary: Ten months after "Backdrifting" (AU: Canon-divergent from ep 305) - Ian makes a bold suggestion that leads to the next step in his relationship with Mickey.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Backdrifting [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/478909
Comments: 50
Kudos: 239





	Because There Are No Others

“Right there, right there,” Mickey whines, gasping with urgency.

He’s kneeling on the couch, draped over the back of it, with Ian hammering into him from behind. They’d started out standing, fucking against any available surface in the room, but after a while it’d gotten to be too much and they’d ended up here, sweating into the cushions, thighs working overtime.

Ian holds Mickey’s hands down more forcefully against the back of the sofa, molding to his back as he thrusts up harder and deeper, mouthing at the back of Mickey’s neck. He knows he’s pegging that exact spot inside of his partner that makes him lose all control, and he smirks as Mickey keens once more.

“I got you,” Ian whispers roughly into his ear, skimming his hands all the way up Mickey’s arms. He brings them around Mickey’s neck, traveling down to rub his chest until both arms are wrapped tightly around his lover’s upper body, holding him in one place as Ian keeps pumping up into him in the same frantic manner.

Mickey moans unabashedly, ass bouncing perfectly against Ian’s pelvis and upper thighs, until a few staccato grunts signal his orgasm, his hole tightening around Ian’s cock as he comes untouched. He’s gotten good at that lately. Or maybe Ian has, he’s not sure. Maybe it’s teamwork.

Ian grabs Mickey’s arms at the elbows, holding them together as he continues his assault.

“Oh, fuck!” cries Mickey, overly sensitive now that he’s blown his load.

Ian bends Mickey back down over the couch, so that he can lean back and watch their union better. The only thing that would look hotter than his dick sliding in and out of Mickey’s ass right now would be his dick sliding in and out of Mickey’s ass with no condom covering it.

The mere thought of it sends a jolt of excitement through his body, and he groans long and deep, watching himself a moment more before pulling out and snapping the rubber off, tossing it who knows where as he takes himself in hand. He jacks off as he spreads Mickey’s ass apart so he can watch him spasm and twitch at the newfound absence of cock. He can’t lie and say that the sight of that asshole he loves so much slightly gaping because his dick was just inside it doesn’t completely do it for him. As he watches, his hand speeds up more and more until he’s coming in hot spurts all over Mickey’s ass, massaging the fatty flesh as he does so, spunk splashing up as high as his lower back. He punches out a satisfying groan, slumping down and placing a quick kiss on Mickey’s shoulder before falling sideways onto the sofa to catch his breath.

Mickey turns his head to assess his boyfriend. “Jesus, Red, did you just jizz all over my ass?”

Ian shrugs, eyes still closed. “Yeah.”

Mickey makes a face. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up,” he says, heading to the bathroom.

He’s become a big fan of intimate wet wipes, which really come in handy in these situations. He uses a few them to wipe down his stomach, then his ass, back, and between his legs, balls, crack, all of it. Whether his or Ian’s, cum had dripped everywhere. And as unsexy as it is after the fact, he can’t deny that it does always feel pretty hot in the moment.

Ian is in the same exact spot on the couch with his legs stretched out, his right hand still wet and sticky.

“Did you die or something?” quips Mickey, tossing a clean wipe at him.

Ian finally opens his eyes when the moist towelette lands on his chest. “I think I’ll live another day,” he replies, wiping off his dick, then his hand. “Thanks, babe.”

Mickey cringes as he spots the condom Ian had thrown off, stuck to the floor a couple feet from the couch. He picks it up and holds it out for inspection. “Lose something?”

“What? You know I like to come on you sometimes.”

“Did I complain?”

“Not yet, but it seems like you wanna.”

“Just hand me your other trash and zip it. Don’t worry, I’ll clean the cushions too.”

“Thanks, babe,” Ian cursorily repeats.

Mickey rolls his eyes as he does Ian the good boyfriend favor of getting his jizz stain out of the sofa. Ian looks rather silly, dozed off naked on the couch, and once he’s done, Mickey wakes him to beckon him to bed.

“I shouldn’t,” Ian protests weakly as he lays down on the mattress. He blinks rapidly, trying to fight the sway of sleep.

Mickey runs a hand over his cheek. “You’re like a big kid sometimes, you know that?”

He smiles lazily. “You like it.”

“Reminds me of when you were scrawny and had fuckin’ bangs.” Mickey snickers. “Christ, what the hell did I see in you?”

Ian flicks his nose. “I was still hot even before the glow-up and you know it.”

“You were okay. Shoulda stayed the fuck away.”

Mickey bites his tongue in his attempt to keep the smile at bay, but can’t hold it once Ian smacks him indignantly on the chest. They laugh together.

“We used to bang without condoms all the time,” says Ian. “Remember that?”

“Hard to forget. But we were young. We didn’t know any better.”

“Yeah, it was irresponsible then, but what if we did it now, but the right way?”

“Huh?” asks Mickey.

“I was thinking about it earlier when we were fucking. How hot it would be to watch you take it bare. How hot it would feel. Skin on skin.”

“So you’re sayin’ you have a barebacking kink?”

“No, I mean, porn search history aside, you and I have been together almost a year now, and we’ve been monogamous. We trust each other in a way we couldn’t when we were kids. We could get tested and make sure we’re both all good, and we could ditch the condoms, just use lube. Increases pleasure, decreases drug store bill.”

Mickey can’t remember the last time he’d had sex without a condom. Sure, sometimes snafus happened, but after getting the clap in prison that one time, he was all good on not wrapping it up.

“This is the true test of gay monogamy, huh?”

Ian chuckles. “Let’s hope so.”

“I knew you came all over my ass for a reason,” Mickey accuses, eyes twinkling as he pokes at Ian’s pecs.

“You got me,” Ian says, huffing a laugh. “So what do you think? You wanna go back to rawing it?”

Mickey shrivels his nose. “As long as I never have to take a spit ride again, I’m good.”

“Come on, Mick. Tell me what you think. I don’t want you to agree just because it’s my thing. You have to be on the same page, or we won’t do it. And I won’t be mad.” He bats his eyelashes at Mickey in a comical way, and they say in unison, “Just disappointed.”

“You’re so predictable, Gallagher,” he chastises, patting his cheek. “I know it’s just you and me, so why would I mind tearing down that last barrier between us? It sounds hot as hell.”

Ian nods, relieved that he didn’t make a fool of himself bringing up this topic. God, he could be locking that ass down raw within a week or two, depending on how long their results took to get back. He leans in and kisses Mickey’s mouth like a promise of things to come.

“It’s gonna be the hottest thing ever.” He kisses him again. “I love you.”

Mickey’s lips quirk, because he can never help it when Ian says that. And he’s been good about only saying it sparsely and appropriately, which is a relief. He doesn’t bombard Mickey with unnecessary affection at the drop of a hat, and doesn’t put him on the spot. He only does it when it’s genuine. When he really means it.

“Love you too, you fuckin’ sap.”

Ian gets out of bed again, apparently reinvigorated by their discussion.

“Where the hell you goin’?” asks Mickey.

“Getting my laptop. Gonna book an appointment online.”

Mickey laughs. “You’re not wastin’ any time.”

“Hell no, I’m not,” replies Ian, reentering the bedroom with his computer in hand. “You need to get more excited about this.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “I’ll get excited at the appropriate time, don’t worry.”

Ian flips him off and settles back in for an internet search.

He ends up choosing a clinic catering to the LGBT community, and Mickey hates it, but Ian loves it. The lobby staff is colorful, and when a tiny swishy gay guy and a severe looking lesbian emerge from the rooms in the back, Mickey’s not sure which one he most dreads getting assigned to his case. He ends up getting the woman, and Ian covertly laughs at him as he follows the guy back to a room.

Getting asked really personal information is always bad enough, so Mickey’s already been dreading all the invasive questions about his sexual history, but it’s somehow even more unsettling to have to explain himself to someone so totally his polar opposite. He can just imagine the judgment and disdain. At least if he had some old vanilla straight dude, he could have some fun trying to freak him out and it might take the edge off. Not to mention, he actually _hates_ needles. Enduring his tattoos being inked had always been an exercise in false bravado. He knew how to fake something not hurting, after a lifetime of Terry Milkovich laying hands, feet, and weapons on him. But when someone had to draw blood from him, he always had to look away, and he swore he could feel the pull of the blood being extracted from his vein. It really freaked him out.

So here he is having to use his fingers multiple times over to count up all the sexual partners he can even remember at this point, admitting to having had ye olde gonorrhea all those years back, before being swabbed, poked and drawn, and asked to pee in a cup for good measure. Ridiculous. Ian really should owe him, to be honest.

Ian couldn’t help but feel slightly slutty any time he was forced to provide his number to someone like this. He’d actually sat down some years back and tried to make a list with a reasonable margin of error. It had been slightly horrifying to add up, but easier to keep track of since then, as he’d slowed way down a long time ago. But bringing it back up, he still felt just that tiny bit of shame about it, arguing in his head about being too hard on himself and accepting his past mistakes, because he’d moved on. But this was all worth it. He was already living his best sex life with Mickey, and they were about to make it even better. It’s like adding 10% to something that’s already at 100.

When Ian and Mickey meet back up in the waiting room, the redhead is toying almost obscenely with a bright yellow sucker, while Mickey’s brow furrows at being totally empty-handed.

“What the fuck? That bitch didn’t offer me any candy!”

Ian snickers, sucking hard and popping the confection out of his mouth to offer his boyfriend. “You can have the rest if you want.”

Mickey sneers his repulsion. “That’s so nasty, dude. The hell’s wrong with you?”

Ian snorts. “Um, you let me stick my tongue down both your throat _and_ your asshole, but you won’t share my slightly sucked sucker? How does that make any sense?”

“Those are completely different things. Like, you wouldn’t use my fuckin’ toothbrush.”

Ian just shrugs casually, like it’s not a revolting thought.

“Ian! You would use my fuckin’ toothbrush?” His face screws up in further horror. “Have you already used it?”

“No, Mick, I haven’t used your toothbrush, but the thought of it doesn’t disgust me, because it feels like the same kind of intimacy that we already have. We’ve exchanged so much saliva and semen, I don’t see the point in being squeamish about mixing our germs.”

Mickey shook his head. “You really don’t understand nuance or context, Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Also, don’t say ‘semen.’”

They request that all their results be delivered at the same time, rather than receiving multiple phone calls at random. The longest wait for test processing would be a week or two, so all they can do is wait.

It doesn’t take long for the waiting to give rise to a whole wealth of worrying.

Ian’s brain swells with reminiscences of every sketchy hook-up he wasn’t too out of his mind fucked up to recall, even if they were a little hazy. Yes, he’s been tested since those days, but could you ever really know for sure? And it’s not like he never had any fuck ups with his ex, and he had kind of dropped the ball on checking himself out since then. Even though he wasn’t getting high as a kite and wasted under the table in the intervening time between his last boyfriend and his current one, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have contracted something. Higher caliber hook-ups have just as much potential for transmission as any others. People are assholes who do shitty things without remorse, and sometimes they just don’t even have a clue they’re spreading something.

He tries not to let his darker musings infiltrate his time with Mickey. Turns off that faucet of thoughts until he’s alone with himself again. Still, he’d be lying if he said that some of it doesn’t still trickle out when they’re together. It feels like he has a constant low-grade hum repeating, _‘What if? What if? What if?’_ running through his head rising and falling from the background at random.

Mickey doesn’t have as much cause for stress, as he’s been tested a lot more recently, but it’s impossible for even him to refrain from indulging in the occasional irrational fear. Yeah, it’s been a long time since he’s been careless, but shit… anything can happen. What if they discovered some other anomaly entirely? Maybe he was STD-free, but showing signs of cancer, or lyme disease, or some weird-ass rare illness that no one had a cure for? With his run of good luck lasting for pretty much years now, wasn’t it time for something to knock him back down a peg or two?

He can tell that Ian is driving himself quietly crazy from fretting over every single life choice he’s ever made. As usual, Ian has chosen to dwell on his problems alone, trying not to burden anyone else with his feelings. Mickey’s just been waiting for him to open his mouth and fess up, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.

It’s been eight days since their clinic visit, and they’re having a night in on Mickey’s couch. His head is lying in Ian’s lap, and he keeps trying to get Ian to pet it, secretly loving when those long fingers rake through his hair. But Ian’s practically on another planet, and when he starts shaking his leg incessantly, Mickey gets fed up.

He sits upright and heaves a big ol’ sigh. “Will you please just fuckin’ man up and talk about it, jitterbug?”

Ian crinkles his nose. “Jitterbug?”

Mickey frowns. “The fuckin’ shaky leg and all the nervous shit you’ve been doin’ in general and playing off like it’s fine lately. Just tell me what the hell’s botherin’ you. Get it off your chest.”

“It’s nothing. Just got some shit on my mind, but I’ll be okay. It has nothing to do with you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Bullshit. If you don’t wanna start, then I will… You’re freaked out about gettin’ the lab results back.”

Ian shouldn’t be surprised at Mickey’s intuition where he’s concerned, but somehow he is. At the end of the day, he’s not that great of an actor, so of course Mickey knows something’s going on behind the scenes.

He exhales shakily, then sinks back into the cushions more comfortably. “If you already know what I’m thinking, then why do I need to tell you about it?”

“Really? _I_ have to explain to you about the value of conversation and expressing your emotions?”

“What am I supposed to say? That I’m terrified I made a mistake and fucked around with the wrong person and might be dying? What exactly is that gonna accomplish?”

“You don’t think I’ve been havin’ the same exact thoughts? It doesn’t ever really matter how real the risk is, it’s just normal to think that something might go wrong when you have to run tests. Maybe if you just say it out loud, and we commiserate, it gets less scary.”

“There’s nothing either of us can do, though, is there?”

“No, there isn’t. But most likely, it’s all gonna be okay. And if it isn’t, then we deal with it then. Just gotta wait a few more days.”

Ian hangs his head back, arm reaching across the back of the couch until he can fit his hand around the nape of Mickey’s neck. Eventually he turns his face to look at him.

“You really scared too?”

“Of course I am, man. Just human nature.”

“But you really think it’ll all work out?”

“Fuck yeah, I do. Ain’t like either of us have any symptoms. We’re just bein’ extra careful. Your mind’s just playin’ tricks on ya.”

“But Mick… I used to be—”

“Fuck ‘used to be.’ We both used to be kinda messed up, who cares? That shit is ancient history and you know it.”

“But all the guys between—”

“Yeah, I know. And I still say you’re gonna be fine. You _are_ fine. Currently. You just need the confirmation.”

Ian leans over to kiss his cheek. “You’re definitely fine. In every sense of the word.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Yeah, alright. Now, will you calm the fuck down and pay attention to this movie with me, please? I’ll even blow you if you manage to stop the cogs turnin’ for an hour. Just chill.”

Ian reverses their earlier positions, lying down the opposite way and resting his head on Mickey’s thigh.

“Will you play with my hair?” he implores.

Mickey snorts in amusement and tangles his hand in copper strands, feeling Ian letting go as the minutes tick by; feeling a little bit lighter himself.

They both receive emails containing access codes to their results on the thirteenth day of heightened anticipation. Mickey waits until Ian texts him to acknowledge his receipt of the info, and they call each other as they log in to check their stats.

They go down the list one by one, covering both types of HIV, both simplexes of herpes, the three hepatitis strains, chlamydia, gonorrhea, and syphilis.

All they hear through the receiver is the repetition of, “Negative.”

_Negative, negative, negative._

The sense of relief is palpable and overwhelming.

Ian lets out a kind of giggle of delight, and Mickey lets out a long, loud breath.

“Told ya, babe. Nothin’ to worry about.”

Ian smiles. “I’m coming over as soon as I get off work.”

“Cuttin’ straight to the chase, ‘ey?”

“Actually, I just wanna hug you and squeeze you, is that okay?”

Mickey lets out a harsh, brief cackle. “After all that, you just wanna cuddle instead?”

“Oh, I fully intend on fucking you tonight, but maybe I wanna wine and dine you first.”

“Thought established relationships were for skippin’ the hoops-jumping stuff?”

“We’re goin’ on a date, Milkovich. Deal with it.”

Like proper gentlemen, they celebrate their new brand of sexual freedom by going out to eat at a trendy place Ian has been wanting to try. Mickey still tends to look around like he doesn’t belong in places that emanate any modicum of class, unless it’s somewhere he’s already familiar with, like his own bar. But what throws Ian off kilter are Mickey’s food choices for the evening.

Ian goes all in on sampling multiple dishes from different sections of the menu, representing pretty much every food group in the process. And as he waits to hear the inevitable request for ‘a rare steak mooing’ from the opposite side of the table, Mickey casually orders… a fucking salad. Yes, a delicious sounding salad full of laudably healthy ingredients, but a fucking salad nonetheless.

When Mickey turns back to him after handing over his menu, it’s only to be greeted with Ian’s shocked expression.

“What?” Mickey asks defensively, posturing a little with his shoulders.

“Did you actually just order a _salad_ for dinner?”

“Yeaaahh?” Mickey answers slowly.

“Did you get transmogrified into a prissy girl on a first date?”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Good on you for puttin’ that dictionary to use finally, but fuck off, Gallagher. It has chicken in it.”

Ian laughs. “I literally have never seen you even eat a _side_ salad before. You feeling okay? Your tummy hurt?” He frowns in a mocking manner.

“I’m fuckin’ fine, asswipe. Will you stop with the third degree?”

Mickey rubs anxiously at his nose and plays with the straw in his water with an averted gaze. Ian reaches a hand across the table, offering his palm up for the taking. Mickey eyes him warily, then relents, placing his hand in Ian’s bigger one.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” says Ian. “It’s not like we haven’t banged each other hundreds of times already.”

Mickey snorts. “Thank you, Captain Obvious, but… It’s just… I haven’t done it raw in a really long time. Didn’t really think about it back in the day, cuz I was a fuckin’ braindead moron who barely cared about livin’ or dyin’, but now… it just seems really…”

“Intimidating?”

Mickey shakes his head. “Intimate.”

Ian smiles sweetly. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothin’. It’s just this mental thing I guess. Feels like it’s all built up.”

“Mick, we don’t have to do this now if you’re not feelin’ it. We can wait for the right time. If we both still want to.”

“Nah, it’s not like that. I do want to now. I do.”

“Is there something you’re worried about? Like, you think anything’s gonna change afterward? Or you think I’m gonna do something you don’t like during?”

Mickey squeezes his hand. “No, Ian. I trust you. Can’t a man just be fuckin’ irrationally scared sometimes? Like you were until today. I’m sure I’ll be peachy keen once it becomes a reality.”

Ian tugs at Mickey’s hand and kisses the back of it before finally letting go. “I’ll take care of you, I promise. Maybe it’s a good time for us to talk about boundaries and shit, since we’re adding something new to the mix.”

One of Mickey’s eyebrows shoots up high. “Boundaries? What’re you suddenly worried about going overboard with? Thought we talked about all our kinks back during Sexmas season.” He briefly wags his tongue, and Ian titters.

“Well…” They’re interrupted by a server dropping off two of the dishes Ian ordered, and Ian thanks her before continuing. “No condoms… I think the main question is really…” He gives a cursory look around to make sure he’s not being overheard. “Can I fill your ass up with my jizz?”

Mickey’s eyes bug out, even though he’s decidedly _not_ a prude and has definitely fantasized about Ian coming anywhere and everywhere he pleases.

“Of course this whole thing is actually about your masc-ass top alter ego wanting to spread his seed wherever he please.”

Ian seems about to protest, but then sits back and shrugs. “Maybe,” he replies, eating a forkful of brussels sprouts.

Mickey scoffs and throws a cloth napkin at his face. “Fuck you.”

Ian laughs, grabbing the napkin and handing it back. “Look, I already told you why I wanna do it okay? Seeding you is just a really hot bonus.”

Mickey tries to remain stoic and unabashed, but the humor creeps in too hard, and they both crack up together.

When his laughter recedes, Ian gets a serious look on his face for a moment. “I do feel really lucky, though, you know? I’ve known a lot of guys who weren’t. Know a couple who are out about being positive, and they seem totally fine, but they’re not really. Just having to live with that weighing on your mind and doing things to your body when you’re not ultra careful. I don’t know why I’m spared and they aren’t, but I’m just grateful. Selfishly grateful.”

“We are lucky, and it’s okay to appreciate that.”

Ian raises a glass. “To those of us who weren’t as lucky.”

Mickey tilts his head and clinks his cocktail against Ian’s.

The rest of their food arrives as they sip their drinks, and now that it’s in front of him Mickey kind of turns his nose up at his giant plate of leaves, fruits, vegetables, and nuts with its neat little strips of grilled chicken and its goat cheese crumbles on top. He fixes his eyes on Ian digging into his pork and mashed cauliflower like a beast.

“Can’t believe I ordered light so that my ass would be as squeaky clean and inoffensive as possible, and yet here you are shoving fig-glazed meat and fuckin’ brussels sprouts down your gullet.”

“Sorry I thought we were just eating like normal dudes who like to get their money’s worth on date night.”

“Okay, but did you literally have to order the fartiest thing on the menu?” asks Mickey, stuffing a large bite of greens into his mouth.

Ian swallows hard, trying not to cough as he snickers through mastication. “Farty?”

“Yes. Brussels sprouts, aside from tasting like dirt trash, are gonna have you stinkin’ up the bedroom real bad.”

“I’ve never had that problem in my life.”

“Oh, you’re immune to human foibles like gas? Coulda fooled me, fartknocker.”

Ian’s fork and knife clatter to the plate as he wipes his mouth, trying to hide his chuckles. “Keep it up and I’ll order a big bowl of egg salad just to spite you. Everybody knows egg farts are the worst.”

“Listen, I will send this shit back and order a giant bean burrito.”

“They don’t have burritos here.”

“They don’t got eggs either, numbnuts.”

“All I know is one way or another, my dick is going in your ass later tonight. You can make it as gross as you want. Daddy needs satisfaction.”

Mickey’s mouth opens, on the verge of ranting about Ian’s ‘daddy’ teasing again, which the redhead knows he fucking hates, when a dumb old internet joke pops into his head. “Seriously? Right in front of my salad?”

Ian giggles and rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, is that the real reason you ordered that damn thing? To find the perfect moment to use that stupid one-liner?”

Mickey chortles as he eats. “No, actually, but I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

“Good for you,” Ian says sarcastically.

From there on out, dinner is a breeze, and by the time they leave, Mickey’s showing minimal lingering signs of trepidation.

They go back to Ian’s since it’s closer, and while Mickey preps himself in the bathroom, Ian decides to take even more pressure off and lighten the mood before they get started on the evening’s sexcapades. He opens Spotify on his phone and scrolls to a 70s playlist that contains tracks from _Boogie Nights_ among it, cuing up the song that popped into his head when he thought about cheesy, yet good porno music that would make his boyfriend laugh. Then he turns on wi-fi casting to his external speaker.

So when Mickey walks into the bedroom in nothing but a towel, Ian is lying on the bed naked and waiting, finger ready to press play as soon as he steps across the threshold. The starting notes ring out like the entrance music to their scene.

_‘I believe in miracles_

_Where you from_

_You sexy thing, sexy thing you_

_I believe in miracles_

_Since you came along_

_You sexy thing’_

Mickey is already biting his lip in a grin, rolling his eyes, and crossing his arms defiantly. Ian, undeterred, makes wah wah guitar noises and hums along, then starts serenading with a goofy expression on his face.

_‘Where did you come from, baby?_

_How did you know I needed you?_

_How did you know I needed you so badly?_

_How did you know I'd give my heart gladly?_

_Yesterday I was one of the lonely people_

_Now you're lying close to me, making love to me’_

He gets really into it, throwing himself around on the bed, then standing and dancing toward Mickey awkwardly, really hamming up the lyrics, whipping his dick back and forth, and reaching out to rub his hands over Mickey’s body as he continues goofing off.

It’s impossible to remain immune to Ian’s silly charms, so Mickey allows himself to be pulled in closer, which leads to Ian turning his back so he can grind his small ass all over whatever part of Mickey’s body he can reach, circling around him like a stripper pole.

_‘Where did you come from, angel?_

_How did you know I'd be the one?_

_Did you know you're everything I prayed for?_

_Did you know, every night and day for?_

_Every day, needing love and satisfaction_

_Now you're lying next to me, giving it to me’_

As compelling and hilarious as his partner is being, Mickey has to cut him off as the chorus kicks in again after the second verse. If left unchecked, Ian was liable to do this all night instead of all that bareback fucking he’s been daydreaming about.

He throws his arms over Ian’s broad shoulders, kisses him hard on the mouth, and pulls back to look him in the eyes. “How the hell did I end up with a giant cornball like you, huh?”

Ian’s eyes are practically sparkling down at him as he encircles his arms around Mickey’s waist.“Just got lucky, I guess. Gotta keep you entertained so you don’t have time to overthink.”

“Oh, is that what I was doing?”

“Seemed to me.”

“And you never overthink?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“But when you do it, it’s fine.”

“When I do it, I distract myself too. That’s like the first recommendation for anyone having a freakout. Large or small, it seems to work.”

“Guess it did. You sexy thing.”

Ian cackles and kisses him again, opening his mouth this time, deepening it as Mickey steers him toward the bed. He pushes Ian back onto it and crawls up the mattress, hovering over his body as he scoots up to lie back on the pillows. They keep kissing as Mickey wiggles his way between Ian’s legs so that his hips rest against his inner thighs. This creates something of a sword fight as their burgeoning erections fill out and strengthen.

After Ian’s little show, Mickey is feeling generous, so he reaches down to tug on Ian’s cock, their mouths still seamlessly interlocked. Once he breaks the kiss, he slowly shimmies his way back down Ian’s body so he can wrap his lips around another part of him. Mickey strokes up and down Ian’s hairy thighs, sucking on the tip of his dick, then licking up and down the length like it’s a leaking popsicle. Ian throws his head back in a deep moan, then focuses his gaze on Mickey again. He’ll never get tired of the way Mickey’s lips look when they’re wet and in the midst of committing unspeakable acts of lewdness. If people only knew how good he sucked a dick… well, that probably wouldn’t do, cuz then he’d be fending off constant blowjob propositions. Still, Ian just really feels like it’d be the surprise of the century to many. That, and Mickey being a bottom to begin with, he supposes. God, Ian really lucked out.

Mickey leaves one hand to lavish attention on Ian’s thigh and ass, and brings the other up to assist with the task at hand, jerking Ian’s cock up as his mouth sinks down the shaft until they meet somewhere in the middle. After a minute, he pulls back to watch his hand slide up and down with ease. He loves Ian’s dick so much. It’s the actual perfect size, he’s decided. It’s big, but not mammoth. It’s thick, but not fat. It’s long, but not excessive. You can cram the whole thing in eventually. It’s also just pretty to look at, as far as dicks go. The shape is nice, it’s cut, it’s dark pink with no discoloration, and it doesn’t veer off in a weird direction for no reason. It’s just a really nice dick, and he likes looking at it almost as much as he likes touching it sometimes.

He shifts his eyes back up to Ian’s face as he dives back in with his mouth, taking Ian deeper and deeper until he has cock pressing past his uvula. He keeps taking in more and more of Ian on his downstrokes, until he has the whole thing in, moving his hand to play with Ian’s balls as he stays in place, all but choking on Ian’s dick as his throat muscles contract around it.

Ian’s moaning is ragged and incessant, and he buries a hand in Mickey’s hair, trying not to press down and gag him when he tries to come up for air, which happens a moment later. The sight of Mickey’s puffy red mouth dripping with saliva over Ian’s cock as they lock eyes sends a jolt of electricity thrumming through his body. He reaches for Mickey, leaning over to meet him in a sloppy, drooling kiss as they feel each other up wherever their hands land. Ian pulls him onto his lap, taking Mickey’s dick in hand as he gets settled.

He groans into Ian’s mouth, panting through his nose as they stay fused there, and Ian jacks him off with a steady hand. Mickey loves the relief of his cock being touched after it’s stayed hard and neglected for a while. It makes the wait worthwhile. Makes it hotter. He and Ian can last a long time, and he’s learned how to spread out the pleasure until no more pleasure can be had. It’s the best.

Ian switches from his right hand to his left and pats Mickey on the ass. “Hey, I gotta get the lube,” he informs breathily, not letting up his leftie handjob assault.

Mickey’s eyes are squinched up, head slightly thrown back, and he nods vigorously in approval. Why didn’t Ian put the damn lube in the middle of the bed earlier? Whatever, he’s not gonna start an argument right now. Especially if Ian manages to keep a hand on his dick while he retrieves the bottle. Which apparently he can, because he hears some fumbling, but refuses to open his eyes, instead burying his face in Ian’s neck while he waits, mouthing at the skin there and pulling on his red hair.

“Fuck,” Ian grumbles, but then finally gets a good enough grip to flip the cap on the lube he’d butterfingered away from the nightstand.

Since Mickey’s disappeared in his neck, Ian decides to just steamroll ahead and reaches his right hand around to rub two wet fingers into the skin on and around Mickey’s asshole, keeping his left hand pumping steadily. Mickey moans and leans in closer to Ian, hot breath fanning across damp skin. Ian’s finger slips inside, and before he has much chance to move it in and out, Mickey’s bucking on it. Suddenly, Ian realizes that his cock is going to be inside of Mickey’s ass as bare as his fingers always are, and it makes him impossibly hornier, the anticipation absolutely killing him.

He waits the requisite amount of time before adding another finger, taking the hand off Mickey’s cock now and wrapping that arm around his back for better leverage. Mickey leans back into it, fucking himself well on Ian’s long fingers, while holding onto his shoulders. He looks so sexy it makes Ian quiver.

He can’t take it anymore. He removes his fingers from Mickey, rolling him over onto his back, reaches for the lube and squirts some in his hand. He splays his legs over Mickey’s torso, kneeling over him and taking his own dick in hand, then slowly slicking himself up as he watches Mickey with untamed passion. Mickey’s eyes move between meeting Ian’s heated gaze and lusting over the steady movement Ian’s big hand makes as it jerks his big cock, and Mickey licks his lips before biting down on the bottom one.

Ian starts to lower himself down onto Mickey to get in between his legs, but Mickey wrestles him around until he comes out on top, wasting no time finding the right spot for his legs so that he can comfortably sit on Ian’s dick. He reaches behind himself to line it up, and sinks gingerly and deliciously down, bucking back up just a little each stroke before edging back down, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated.

They both let out simultaneous groans of ecstasy and smile at each other knowingly.

“How’s it feel, Red?”

“Mmm, so good.”

“Just good?” asks Mickey, quickly rolling his hips up, then down.

Ian gasps, snickering and slapping at Mickey’s ass. “Fucking amazing. How’s it for you?”

Mickey presses his hands into Ian’s pecs, bucking down onto his cock faster and with more precision. He’s not sure exactly how to describe the feeling. The slide is definitely different without the latex barrier, but he’s not necessarily getting additional physical pleasure from the absence just yet. It’s more of a mental thing.

“Feels… natural.”

Natural is a good word for it, Ian thinks. The visceral reality of being inside of Mickey like this, skin against skin, his ass fitting around Ian like a custom-made glove, the warmth enveloping him so thoroughly; it’s idyllic. He can feel every dip and ridge pulsating around his dick, the friction fierce and direct. It’s making his brain go fuzzier than normal, and his whole body is tingling with the bursts of utter life stimulating all his nerve endings. He caresses Mickey’s strong thighs, hissing through his teeth as his boyfriend continues bouncing on his cock with abandon.

Ian catches Mickey off guard by hauling up and flipping him onto his back while his eyes are closed, a yelp and a whoosh escaping as he hits the mattress. Ian gets his own rhythm going, his piercing gaze radiating pure sex as Mickey looks up at him in wondrous adoration. Now that they’ve been at it a while, Mickey is convinced he can feel Ian’s big dick throbbing as it nudges against all the edges inside of him, and everything gets slicker and warmer. Probably Ian’s pre-cum. The thought of that excites him even more, and he moans out, clutching at Ian’s back, digging his nails in a little.

“Mick,” Ian answers with a moan of his own. “You’re so tight and wet.” He pumps in faster. “Fuck, I can’t wait to come inside you.”

Mickey pulls Ian down for a kiss and cants his hips up a little higher, sighing when his satisfaction increases with the new angle and Ian slips in deeper. When their lips finally part, Ian moves his hands from Mickey’s hips to caress his lower torso and give his aching cock a little bit of attention. Mickey’s whole body gives a jolt at the touch, all his synapses on fire, and his back arches off the bed, which he knows for a fact is a move that always drives Ian crazy.

Ian groans, thrusting harder and harder, until he pulls out and flips Mickey over again, manhandling him into position on his knees and diving back in dick first. Now he can watch himself piston into Mickey without the eyesore of a condom, and it’s glorious. Seeing that tight, slick, pink hole stretching around the velvety skin of his hard-on, and syncing up so completely with the sensations overtaking him physically is absolutely blissful. He pulls out completely a few times, watching Mickey’s hole contract and clench at the air, then latch onto the mushroom head of Ian’s dick as he slowly shoves it back in. His life is officially a real live porno, and he cannot complain a single bit.

He knows Mickey sometimes gets bored when Ian gets lost in his own fantasies, watching too attentively as he fucks him, so he gets his head back in the game and thrusts hard and deep once more, spreading Mickey’s ass cheeks with his hands as he settles in closer between his legs. His thumbs feel around the edges of Mickey’s hole as he keeps at it, and he’s not sure how much longer he’s gonna last. He reaches around to help Mickey work his cock, his own strokes getting shorter and staying deep. His balls feel heavy and taut, and will require release very soon, so Ian presses Mickey’s body down flush against mattress, until he’s fully covering him, fucking his ass thoroughly as he smooshes him into the bed.

Mickey’s prostate would probably sing a song if it had a voice. This may be the best build-up to an orgasm he’s ever had. He loves it when Ian just covers him and holds him down like this. Just ravishes him with unrestrained passion. He doesn’t even care that his dick is trapped and he can’t get his hand back on it. He knows that it’s gonna be enough anyway. He’s gonna come any second now. Hard.

Ian reaches up and tugs at Mickey’s hair just so, hips still pumping away at a furious pace, and that’s all it takes to knock Mickey over the edge. His whole body tenses up as he comes, blinding light flashing before his eyes, wetness seeping into the comforter below, and before he can uncoil, Ian is following.

“Oh, Mick!” Ian bellows as his hips stutter, and Mickey immediately feels the spurts of spunk filling him up, moaning low as Ian continues pulsing inside him.

Ian revels in the sensation of coming inside of Mickey without a barrier. It’s warm and wet, and hot and primal, and it really does feel natural and intimate. It’s an orgasm at its most pure. He’s already addicted.

He leans back, bringing Mickey with him until they’re both on their knees again, pushing the top half of his boyfriend back down before pulling his cock out. He can’t not watch as his jizz seeps out of Mickey’s hole, dripping down past his perineum to his balls. It looks so hot. Hotter than he knew it would.

He pulls Mickey’s torso up so that his back is to Ian’s chest again, and wraps both arms around his middle, pressing a sweaty forehead between Mickey’s shoulder blades.

“You feel that?” asks Ian, dropping a hand down between Mickey’s thighs.

Mickey snorts. “You mean the cum I got literally leaking from my ass? Uh, yeah, I feel it.”

“So goddamn sexy.” Ian kisses him where his lips rest.

Mickey rolls his eyes, but has to admit, “Yeah, alright, I kinda like it. Feels weird, but I guess I’ll get used to it.”

Before Ian’s overly eager hand has time to smear his release all over his lover’s silky skin, Mickey suggests, “Shower?”

Ian snickers breathily. “Why not.”

Their shower is short and sweet, their mood playful, and aside from the usual grab-assing, they pretty much stick to bathing, having spent themselves enough on the previous round. Although it’s not really that late, they gravitate back toward the bed, Ian grimacing at the large wet spot on the bedspread.

“You did that, bitch,” defends Mickey, before Ian can even have the chance to make some comment putting it all on him. “You can deal with it.”

Ian rolls his eyes and folds the comforter over. “Help me roll it up at least. I’ll throw it in the washer.”

They lie around naked for the rest of the night, talking and joking around; touching each other sensually, but without sexual intent, and generally being high on life.

“So was it everything you’d hoped for?” asks Mickey.

Ian squeezes Mickey’s ass. “All that and more, baby.”

Mickey snorts. “You’re such a dumbass. Have I ever told you that?”

“Once or twice,” shrugs Ian. “No, but it was great. Better than when we were kids, ya know? We’re so much better at using the correct amount of lube.”

“Fuck yeah we are. Surprised sex never sent me to the ER back then.”

Ian cringes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for my part in that miseducation and mistreatment of your sweet sweet butthole.”

They laugh and Mickey swats him in the chest.

“Water under the mile high bridge, man. Tonight felt hot for me too. I’m glad we’re doin’ this. It feels right. But everything with you always feels right, and that’s fuckin’ scary when I stop to think about it.”

Ian’s eyebrows raise in surprise at the admission. “You having doubts about us?”

“Jesus, no. Is that what I said? Sometimes you’re the worst active listener. I’m good with where we’re at, I just never expected to be here, so… every step we take farther into it feels a little more surreal or whatever. But anyway, smart people are always a little bit afraid of everything aren’t they?”

“If stroking your ego by saying your superior brains make you fearful will help not turn it into a big deal, then my answer is yes.”

“Good one, champ,” Mickey replies, twisting Ian’s nipple, which starts a kind of slap fight wrestling match, and it’s not long before Ian is back between Mickey’s legs.

At first he just rests there while they hug and kiss and rib each other, but eventually their arousals begin to stir anew.

As Ian’s bare cock slips inside of Mickey for a more slow and steady _‘before bedtime’_ kind of round, he can’t refrain from exclaiming, “Condoms are the worst invention ever created.”

Mickey laughs around a moan, wrapping his legs around Ian’s lower back. “Never usin’ ‘em again.”

“Let’s hope not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Please take the time to leave comments and kudos. I would greatly appreciate it.
> 
> [Follow on Tumblr](http://thevioletjones.tumblr.com/)
> 
> *Song lyrics from "You Sexy Thing" by Hot Chocolate
> 
> *All chapter titles from "All I Need" by Radiohead


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